Before The After
by TheGreenBook
Summary: This is a one shot which will explore what might have happened between Grace Blackthorn and James Herondale, which in turn to led to the events of The Midnight Heir. This might contain spoilers for The Midnight Heir and some material might not be suitable for younger readers. Please read and enjoy.


**Author's Note: I first must apologize for my sporadic updating here and there. Life has gotten hectic and I have started other projects, but sometimes, I am hit with inspiration and I end up writing something I want to share, so here is this. Please read, review if you want, and most of all, enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I own none of these characters. This is a work of fiction based on the characters in Cassandra Clare's forthcoming TLH series, and was inspired by The Midnight Heir. No money is being made on this work. This is a work of fiction and should be treated as such. I will accept critiques but not flames. Please enjoy!**

**Before the After**

The only sound James heard in Lightwood House was the clink of silverware on plates and the snap of the fire in the grate as it burned in the fireplace not far from the long, white table cloth covered table. There were two candles on the table, flickering only subtly, as the air in the house seemed to stand still. There were times James was afraid to breathe, lest he introduce unneeded noise to the house's otherwise impermeable silence.

"More wine?" A voice asked. James looked to his right, where a girl sat. She was dressed in a lavender colored dress, her soft blonde hair pulled up and back so that James could see the curve of her shoulder, all the way up to the nape of her neck. A necklace made of pearls went around her neck and nestled on the bones of her collar, drawing James's eyes down to there, then further down. He felt his mouth fall open a little and he snapped it shut quickly.

"Please," James said. A maid stepped out of the shadows and filled James's glass with a clear, yellow tinted liquid. James took the glass and swirled the contents, then took a sip. "It's a lovely Riesling," he said.

"Chardonnay," Grace replied, sounding almost bored. James felt warmth creep into his cheeks. Of course it was a chardonnay. James knew all the types of wine now, and what they were to be served with.

Mrs. Blackthorn seemed to have taken it upon herself to educate James in all of the lessons he wouldn't learn at school. Before, James had been too young to join the adults for dinner parties, yet now, whenever he was eating dinner at the Institute, he found himself putting his napkin in his lap, keep his elbows off the table, and sitting up straight. As with weapons training, where James was being molded like clay to go from a clumsy boy to something much more refined, here he was Mrs. Blackthorn's own personal project. James's teachers were making James into a proficient Shadowhunter, while Mrs. Blackthorn was making him into something else… a gentleman.

Tonight, however, Mrs. Blackthorn wasn't there. She had left earlier in the evening just as James had arrived, saying something about a dinner party and encouraging him to enjoy himself. The maid had shown James to the dining room, where he waited for Grace to come down for dinner, which brought them to here and now.

"You look lovely tonight," James whispered, leaning close. His heart beat just a little bit faster as he was reminded again that they were alone together. This was against the rules, James knew. Even though they had a chaperone, even though they weren't going to do anything, if Will and Tessa knew that James was alone with a girl, they would have had a fit. Of course, they might have had a fit if they knew James was here at all, and so he had managed to make excuses over the last few months whenever Mrs. Blackthorn summoned him. Will and Tessa didn't have to know everything about James, not anymore any way. He was on his way to becoming a gentleman and he could be responsible for the course his life took.

Whenever James was summoned, he and Grace spent time together, usually with Mrs. Blackthorn chaperoning. They danced in the grand ballroom of Lightwood House; they played cards in a sitting room filled with dust covered spoils. They strolled the gardens with James holding Grace by the arm as Mrs. Blackthorn trailed behind them, telling James to straighten his back, not to slouch, that no girl would ever love him if he didn't carry himself properly. There were times James resented Mrs. Blackthorn's presence, though because of her, he saw Grace. Perhaps Mrs. Blackthorn knew in those times that she was a nuisance, because she always disappeared soon after and left them alone.

The first time James had kissed Grace, it had been one of those times. They were out in the garden walking barefoot in the dew covered grass just as the fog began to settle all around them. Grace had leaned over and kisses James gently on the cheek and he had turned his face to hers, looking into her gray eyes. A second later she had pressed her lips to his and James's eyes flickered closed. He had reached out and touches her lace glove covered hand, feeling as though nothing could ever be so perfect.

The second time they had kissed they were upstairs in her room, looking at a picture book from Idris. He had initiated it that time, his heart feeling as if it might burst from his chest, certain that this was the time everything would fall apart, though it never did. They had kissed countless times since then.

"I'm tired. I don't know why you are here," Grace said, and sipped her wine. James sat back in his seat and glanced at the fire as the maid cleared the plates. There were times when Grace was sweet ad welcoming and then there were times when she was like this; frigid and unmoving, not wanting to relax and enjoy herself.

"I was sent for," James said, looking over. "Mrs. Blackthorn asked me to come." He could never bring himself to ignore Mrs. Blackthorn's request, or even turn it down. He felt drawn to this place in a way he could not understand, and besides, Grace was here.

Grace rolled her eyes and finished her wine. James blinked a few times as his glass was refilled and the buzz of wine settled in his forehead, making the edges of the room feel fuzzy. He was well on his way to becoming drunk, he knew, and the walk home would he long and difficult, unless he stayed, as he had before. He again looked at Mrs. Blackthorn's empty chair and wondered when she might be back. Would it be before or after he climbed into her ward's bed?

Dessert was finally brought out last, a lemon curd that was a tad tart for James's tastes. Again, James looked at Mrs. Blackthorn's empty chair, wanting direction. She would have guided the evening by taking James and Grace to the sitting room where they would have a nightcap before each going their separate ways, until the next time Mrs. Blackthorn summoned James. He had never truly drank before coming to this house. His parents would let him have a glass of wine with dinner but here James was treated like an adult and that included drinking.

"I must retire to upstairs. I'm positively exhausted," Grace said, climbing out of her chair. James looked up at her, biting his lower lip, causing her to again roll her eyes. "You can come if you want, I suppose." She walked out of the room and James almost tripped over himself following after.

They went upstairs to her room, where James sat at her vanity as she disappeared behind a curtain and reemerged after a few minutes dressed in a long white nightgown that brushed the floor when she walked. A candle was lit on the nightstand, casting their shadows on the wall. The necklace was still around Grace's neck and she walked over to James, lowering her head so that he had no choice but to lift his hands and unfasten the necklaces clasp and take it from her neck. She pulled a few pins from her hair and the golden waves tumbled down over her shoulders, smelling of rose petal soap. James again bit his lip. He shouldn't be in this room, he knew, not when Grace was in her nightclothes. He looked at the door, his mind sluggish and his thoughts muddled.

"We can play pretend," Grace said. She turned to face him, resting her hands on his shoulders, causing James to reach up and touch her right hand. James nodded. They had played pretend before, and it took very little thought at all to take the ring from his right hand and slip it onto her left ring finger. "Now, take me to bed, Mr. Herondale."

"As you wish, Mrs. Herondale," James said. He stood up and took her hand, then led her over to the bed, where they climbed beneath the canopy. Playing pretend meant pretending they were married, which made all of the things James and Grace did, and all of the things James wanted to do, not seem as wrong, because, after all, they were married, and people who were married did these things all the time.

James parted his lips and moved close, kissing Grace gently on the lips. She responded by kissing back and taking James's hand. She placed it on her waist and James left it there for a little while until he finally slid it up, feeling first her ribs, then her breasts, still hidden beneath her nightgown, touching them gently. Her tongue tasted sweet against his and his mind spun from the wine and everything else.

Grace removed his jacket first. The buttons down the front of it cracked off the floor when she tossed it down. His shoes were gone soon thereafter, then his tie, and the buttons on his shirt were pulled open as Grace pulled her lips from his and kissed all the way down the front of his chest to his waistband, causing James to whimper and shakes his head before nodding. They had never done this, they had never gone quite this far, and some bit of logic in James's mind was telling him that this was wrong, while something else entirely was silently begging Grace to continue. Not long after, his shirt was gone, as were his pants.

"Make love to me," Grace said. She was lying back against the pillows, her chest bright red and heaving breathlessly. She nibbled on her index finger and grinned wickedly. James was down between her knees, one hand on her stomach, the other on her hip, her nightgown pushed all the way up to her waist as he kissed down the insides of her pale thighs. He had already glimpsed her panties, a soft pink pair adorned with lace that made him hard the instant he had laid eyes on them. "James Herondale, I am asking you to…" James nodded quickly and moved up to kiss her lips hard and passionately as the room spun around them.

"I don't-" James said, his voice cracking. "I don't know-"

"I do," Grace said, and she brought their bodies together in a way that could never feel wrong.

Afterwards, James lay behind Grace and ran his hand over her back and she lay in his arms. Any energy he had left was long gone, and he wanted to sleep here and never wake up. Grace was quiet as she had been the whole time.

"We could get married," James said, causing Grace to turn her head and look at him. "My parents married young. You and I could marry young, and you could move from here to the Institute. When the time comes, we could have a family. You'll love the Institute, Grace. My family will take very good care of you." A cold look came over Grace's face and she sat up, pulling her nightgown close.

"_Why_," Grace said evenly, "would I ever want to marry _you_?"

"Because… I love you," James said. He looked down at the bed, at the rumpled sheets and his still nude form, all evidence of the love they had made together. "I love you, Grace."

The cold expression remained. Storm clouds seemed to cross Grace's eyes as she glared at James, her face filled with nothing but contempt, and even worse, disgust. An icy pit formed in James's stomach and spread upwards towards his heart.

"Love does not exist," Grace said. "I thought you were smart, James. I thought you knew that love doesn't exist. It's just something people made up to give them hope in times of darkness." James stared at her, thinking about how his parents interacted with one another. How sometimes, when James was studying in the drawing room as his father worked at the desk, his mother would come in and stand behind him, brushing some hair from his forehead and kissing the skin there. That had to be love; the same way an amused smiled shared over morning tea was love, the same way gifts exchanged were always exactly what the other had desired. Love was unconditional; love was tangible and could be shared. Love did exist.

"I love you," James said, his voice sounding very small in the silence.

"And I do not love you." The statement seemed to suck every last breath of air from the room in the same moment James felt a stabbing pain in the center of his chest. "I don't love you!" Grace said again, her voice rising into the air, causing James to flinch as tears came to his eyes. "I don't love you! Love is stupid and foolish and it does not exist! You stupid, stupid boy! You should have known that!"

There was nothing left to say. James fell from the bed and dressed quickly before hurrying out of the room and down the hallway, down the steps and outside into the dead, bitter garden as tears clouded his eyes and his stomach rolled with sickness. In the center of his chest the pain remained, throbbing, his heart feeling as if it had cracked completely in two.

* * *

Author's Note: Thank you for reading! Please review if you like.


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